


Let the Music Lead You

by magicpiano



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pining Enjolras, Slow Dancing, Trans Enjolras, Weddings, the Combeferre/Courfeyrac is only mentioned, the Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicpiano/pseuds/magicpiano
Summary: It is Marius and Cosette's wedding, Enjolras hates dancing, but he still wants to dance with Grantaire.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 88





	Let the Music Lead You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has trans!Enjolras. It contains vague references to gender dysphoria and talks about life pre transition. If this is likely to make you uncomfortable please don't read it! Your health is important. Also note that this story was written by a cis gendered person. I hope I was accurate and inoffensive, but if you see something wrong with my story, I am very sorry. Please let me know and I will try to fix it.
> 
> This was inspired by [this headcanon post](https://lesmiserablol.tumblr.com/post/615146672634380288/dancer-enjolras-headcanons-similarly-to-the) by lesmiserablol on [tumblr](https://lesmiserablol.tumblr.com/) and posted with permission. Please go check her out! She has many cute headcanons.
> 
> I couldn't think of a good title for this, it was supposed to be a tiny warm up before working on my real projects. What happened??

He knew that there would be dancing at the wedding, because of course there would be dancing, it was a _wedding_.

He expected the bride and groom to dance, and maybe even some of the couples, but he didn’t think he would be involved in any way. He was (unfortunately) single, and dancing was a couple’s activity. Thus, it was only logical to assume he wouldn’t need to dance. And he was right he didn’t _need_ to dance but…

“Do you want to dance?” Courfeyrac asked leaning over the table in a flamboyant gesture that would likely leave wrinkles in his suit.

The thing is, he didn’t really want to dance. He hated dancing, he always hated dancing ever since he was a child. His biweekly lessons were something he dreaded with all the passion he could muster (and he could muster a LOT of passion). He only went because his parents forced him to and stopped the moment they allowed him to.

Dancing reminded him of his parent’s fancy parties with rich people who only cared about themselves. Dancing reminded him of being forced into dresses and shoes that he could barely walk in, let alone dance. Dancing brought back memories he would rather forget.

So, no he didn’t want to dance. But looking over at Cosette pressed up against Grantaire on the dance floor made his heart flutter in a way he would never confess to. Maybe he just a little tiny bit wished to be in Cosette’ shoes…

“No thanks.” Enjolras declined Courfeyrac’s offer.

“Do you think I am too fast for you?” Courfeyrac asked with mock offence, “If you want a slower partner, I might be persuaded to let you borrow my boyfriend. It would be a terrible burden for me to be forced to witness my dear Combeferre dance with another, but for you my friend, I will grin and bear it.”

This was a ridiculous statement because Combeferre had already danced with almost every one of their friends and just a minute before Courfeyrac was regaling Enjolras with how cute his boyfriend looked dancing. He apparently appreciated the view he wasn’t able to get when he was the one in Combeferre’s arms.

It was a shame Enjolras didn’t have Courfeyrac’s complete and utter lack of jealousy. As it was, he had spent the last three minutes reminding himself it was rude to glare at the bride, especially when she is your friend.

“No, I am really good thanks.” Enjolras turned away from the dance floor and looked back to Courfeyrac with what was hopefully a reassuring smile.

Courfeyrac looked disappointed but was too respectful of Enjolras’ boundaries to push. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

When the song ended Courfeyrac got up to go catch Combeferre, he had apparently had enough watching and now wanted to be part of the action. This was fine except for the fact that it left Enjolras all alone at their table. It was his own fault though, if he wanted to get up and talk to his friends he could, they would all accept him into their conversations without complaint.

He didn’t want to get up and socialize though. He wanted to stew in his own jealousy a little while longer.

Grantaire apparently had other plans though because he startled Enjolras out of his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder.

“Your glaring at the dancefloor like it is personally responsible for poverty.” Grantaire whispered in Enjolras’ ear, a movement that brought a sudden rush of blood to his cheeks.

Enjolras smacked his arm away. “I am _not._ ”

“Maybe not,” Grantaire admitted, “But you are glaring rather hard. Is this when you tell me you have been secretly in love with Cosette all this time?”

“Of course not.” Grantaire was wrong of course, but he was also uncomfortably close to being right, close enough that Enjolras might have spluttered slightly when responding.

“Do you want to dance?” Grantaire asked. He seemed a bit nervous about the offer. Enjolras thought that was rather unfair. What did he even have to be nervous about?

Enjolras almost says yes, he almost jumped out of his chair in excitement, but then he remembers.

Enjolras didn’t want to dance, he hated dancing, but he does kind of want to dance with Grantaire. He wants to dance with Grantaire so bad he almost thinks the embarrassment might be worth it just to hold him for a minute.

“No thanks.” Enjolras says halfheartedly. Grantaire must have picked up on his indecision because he looks like he is about to say something else but Enjolras beats him to it by completely changing the subject. “Do you know how expensive this wedding was? In a way, that dance floor _is_ responsible for poverty.”

This comment makes Grantaire break out one of his full-face grins, the ends of his mouth almost reaching his eyes. Enjolras had more to say on the matter but his words flew right out of his head at the sight.

“In case you have forgotten,” Grantaire says in a tone that implies he knows perfectly well that Enjolras hasn’t forgotten, “Marius’ grandfather and Cosette’s father are both very rich.”

“I am aware,” Enjolras said, “That doesn’t make this not a huge waste of money.”

“A waste of money?” Grantaire asks while gesturing over to Cosette and Marius who are both smiling at laughing at something Lesgle said. “Look how happy they are, how could it be a waste of money?”

“They didn’t need to spend this much on the wedding to be happy.” Enjolras said. He is sure of this; Marius and Cosette were so sickeningly in love that they would have been happy getting married in a sewer.

He would say more but he really didn’t want to fight with Grantaire right now. What he wanted to do was quietly pine in peace. It was a shame that Grantaire wasn’t willing to let him do that.

“So, you are protesting the wedding expenses by glaring at the bride and not dancing?” Grantaire summarized.

“No! I never said either of those things!” Enjolras said, crossing his arms over his chest. Grantaire had a habit of twisting the meaning of his words. It could be as infuriating as it was charming.

“Then why are you grumpily sitting here alone in a corner?” Grantaire asked.

“I am not- it's just…” Enjolras looked away from Grantaire embarrassed. The crowd on the dancefloor was still happily moving to the music, unaware of his inner turmoil. Enjolras wasn’t sure what to say, but then Grantaire’s hand was placed on top of his. The warmth of it was so comforting Enjolras wanted to grab it and never let it go.

“It’s ok,” Grantaire said squeezing his hand, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It is not that,” Enjolras hurries to reassure Grantaire that he hadn’t been pushing too hard for information that Enjolras wasn’t ready to give. Enjolras trusted Grantaire, he wanted to tell Grantaire, he just didn’t know how exactly.

The fact that he was trans wasn’t a secret among their friends, but he still felt self-conscious about it at times. A fear that his friends might reject him. They never did though, he had the kindest most amazing friends in the world and they always made it clear how much they loved him, exactly as he was.

“It is not that I don’t want to dance necessarily,” Enjolras quietly admits, “I just can’t. I took lessons as a kid, but I never learned how to- I don’t know how to _lead_.”

Grantaire seems to understand what Enjolras meant, which is great because Enjolras very much didn’t want to go into further detail.

“Would you like to learn?” Grantaire said sticking out his hand, a silent offer. “Bahorel says I am the best dancer out of all of us. Courfeyrac says Bahorel is a liar, but we both know he is just bitter he can’t do a split.”

Enjolras happened to agree about Grantaire’s dancing skills. The first time he saw Grantaire do a split he couldn’t get it out of his head for weeks. It was strange to hear Grantaire talk about himself with confidence, even stranger to hear him refer to himself as ‘the best’ at something. It is a good look on him, Enjolras wishes he would do it more often.

“Here?” Enjolras asks incredulously. Grantaire’s hand is still sticking out, but it has retracted slightly, all bravado gone from his smirk.

Enjolras realizes then that Grantaire’s confidence wasn’t because he was poised, it was because he was trying to reassure Enjolras. If this realization makes Enjolras’ heart swell a bit, well who can blame him really?

“I just meant- I can’t do that in front of all these people.” Enjolras said, trying to back track. He didn’t want Grantaire to think him ungrateful for the offer. “Maybe another time?”

Enjolras almost face palmed at his own statement. Grantaire was probably busy, he didn’t want to teach Enjolras to dance, he was just offering to be nice. Now Enjolras has forced him into a position where it would be impolite to say no.

Grantaire didn’t seem upset by the imposition though, he just grinned again. It wasn’t his normal grin though; this particular grin was a sign to anyone who knows him that he just got an idea. This was either a very good thing or a very bad thing.

“We could do that if you wanted, I am free most days.” Grantaire offered before sticking his hand out again, “But I have a better idea if you are willing?”

Enjolras was slightly nervous not knowing what Grantaire’s idea was, but he knew that whatever it was it wouldn’t end with him in the spotlight. Even Grantaire’s worst idea never ended with any of his friends hurt. Enjolras figured he had nothing better to do at this wedding than to follow Grantaire.

(And if he wanted to feel Grantaire’s hand in his again, even if just for a moment, well no one needed to know.)

Grantaire proudly grinned when Enjolras took his hand and practically pulled him out of his seat. Grantaire weaved through the crowd dragging Enjolras along behind him. When they finally stopped it was next to a window covered in some thick velvety curtains.

They were off in a corner, but they were still rather exposed, more so than Enjolras wanted to be for something like dance lessons.

“You know Grantaire,” Enjolras said, leaning over Grantaire as he feels around the curtain. “this isn’t actually much more private.”

“Trust me.” Grantaire grins looking at Enjolras over his shoulder. “Ah ha! Got it.”

Enjolras didn’t get to ask what it was Grantaire ‘got’ because he disappeared behind the curtains. Enjolras curiously pulled back the curtains slightly and was treated to the sight of an open-air balcony. It appears that the window was actually a door.

Grantaire is making the come hither gesture with his hand and Enjolras is quick to follow, closing the door behind him. The sound of the band playing inside could still be heard through the closed glass door.

“How did you find this?” Enjolras asked. It was a rather beautiful view, if you found golf courses to be beautiful and not a horrific destruction of nature. As it was, the only thing here that counted as a beautiful view to Enjolras was Grantaire.

“I didn’t really,” Grantaire confessed, bashfully rubbing his neck, “They showed it to us when we toured possible wedding venues. I guess Marius and Cosette forgot about it? Or maybe they just chose not to use it in case it rains? I kind of forgot about it myself.”

But he had remembered when Enjolras was in need. The thought made Enjolras’ heart skip a beat.

“You said you took lessons as a kid?” Grantaire asked.

“Yes, but I never learned to lead so…”

“Well it is not really all that different.” Grantaire reassured. “Start by putting your hands on my hips.”

That sounded about right from what he remembered but… during the times he had let himself daydream about this he never thought of the inherent embarrassment involved in actually touching Grantaire.

Grantaire apparently wasn’t willing to wait out Enjolras’ over thinking. “Here let me show you.” Grantaire took Enjolras’ hands into his own and carefully led them to his hips.

It was easy once he started to let muscle memory take over. Yes, it was different leading, but it wasn’t that different either. He knew the movements and when he misstepped Grantaire was there to help him get back on track. There was an easy give and take to their movements, like the back and forth of their discussions.

Enjolras took a steadying breath and let the soft music carry him. He wished he could keep holding on like this. He wished he didn’t have to let go.

Having Grantaire this close, almost like an embrace, was nearly too much to handle. But Enjolras was determined to enjoy this to the best of his ability, he didn’t know if he would get to have this ever again. He needed to relish in it now.

Grantaire had offered his help to be friendly, but this dance means something more to Enjolras. Grantaire really doesn’t understand what this means to him. Except… There is this moment, when Grantaire squeezes his shoulder and smiles down at him with warm sincerity, and for just a moment Enjolras thinks that maybe Grantaire _does_ understand. Maybe he feels the same way. Maybe Combeferre was right and Enjolras should just say it.

“Grantaire- I really-“ Enjolras said then stopped himself. 

He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t do it here, at a friend’s wedding. He couldn’t take the rejection tonight. Courfeyrac still had best man duties to worry about, he didn’t need the stress of dealing with Enjolras’ broken heart if this went wrong.

He couldn’t do it now. He would, someday, but not tonight.

“Thanks for the dance.”

“Anytime Enjolras.” Grantaire smiled down at him with so much earnestness that Enjolras almost thought he understood what Enjolras was really saying. “Anytime.”

He wasn’t quite ready to say it, so for now he would enjoy the dance.

* * *

Years later, at his own wedding, Enjolras danced with Grantaire again, but this time it was in full view of all their friends, embarrassment long forgotten. He doesn’t hate dancing anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I have had some anxiety lately, writing helps, thus this exists. I should be working on my homework or my big multichapter wip… But homework is boring and my wip is sad guys. I needed something sweet and soft!!
> 
> This was my break from reality, I gave it to myself, as a treat <3
> 
> Now it is time to go back to homework… But soon I will finish my long wip, I swear.
> 
> Once again a special thanks to lesmiserablol on [tumblr](https://lesmiserablol.tumblr.com/) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesmiserablol/works)!


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